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To the Brothers in Colgate 
who were and are and shall he 



MATER 



AVE -- VALE 



by 



Arthur Thomas 



HAMILTON, N. Y. 

REPUBLICAN PRESS 

I9I6 



-,',^^'*°'^* 

^A' 



Copyright 1916 

By The Republican Press 

Hamilton, N. Y. 



Il^ 


fJOV 271916 


©CI,A446633 


~vuo V 



©0 tl|0 H^Bttattng ^urclyas^r: 



Good Sirs, here be Measures — 
Both Reason and Rime, 

To liven your leisures, 
To pleasure your time. ^ 

As quoted, our verse is 

Still rising in gold, 
And frequently worse is 

Complacently sold. 

But, wisely, to save your 

Incurring declines. 
We margined some gravure 

To cover the lines. 

Good Sirs, give them credence; 

Quotations are strong. 
Come, test them in cadence. 

Come, try them in song. 



Hamilton - - - - 13 

The College Fountain - - 15 

A Poet's Grave - - - 17 

Das Hamilton-Thai - - 19 

The Lake on the Campus - - 20 

The Philosophy of the Prom Girl - 21 

The Law of Colgate - - 22 

A Coincidence - - 24 

Water Tower - - - 27 

West College - - 28 

The Library - - - 31 

Farbenspiel - - - 33 

The Willow Path - - - 35 

Mater Ave atque Vale - - 39 

Mercurius - - - 41 




D 



you know our Campus at Colgate? Grey, 

tree-embowered turrets that make 
Pale umbers and pearls in the silvers that 

shimmer on Colgate Lake. 
And our prices are low in Colgate — low 

even for things as these — 
For the attar of Omars roses and 

the Pillars of Pericles. 



II 




"The angels of Heaven might glide through her gardens. 
Their glorious pinions unconscious of stain." 



12 



Utamilton 

I know a village, I know a village, 

Tangled with trees in a complicate skein. 

The angels of Heaven might glide through her gardens, 

Their glorious pinions unconscious of stain. 

I know a village, I know a village, 

Cinctured of hills on an undulate plain. 

I know a village, sweet Hamilton village 

Whose murmuring arches the maples sustain. 



O sky-scraping city, earth-burrowing city 

Whose white feet are stayed at the gates of the main, 

Thanks for the blisses thy maidens have brought me, 

Thy limbs are as lilies where Cupid has lain. 

But I know a village, a country-sweet village 

Whose footsteps have turned from the ways that are 

vain: 
A pure-hearted village, I think of Judea, 
The white hands of angels her footsteps maintain. 



Deep canyon-cut city, clear-aureoled city 
Whose nights are more white than the meteor's train, 
I love the allurements thy women have wrought me, 
Thy lips are as scarlet — a chalice to drain. 
But I think of a village, an evening-husht village, 
Red-broidered by clover that runs in the plain. 
And I long for that village, sweet Hamilton village 
Whose footsteps have turned from the things that are 
vain. 



13 



For I know a village, a summer-sweet village, 

Deep-tangled with trees in a complicate skein. 

The angels of Heaven might glide through her gardens, 

Their glorious pinions unconscious of stain. 

I know a village, a clover-claspt village, 

Encircled of hills in an undulate plain. 

I know a village, sweet Hamilton village, 

Whose murmuring arches the maples sustain. 




■":j^-~- 




■m 



"O, sky-scraping city, earth-burrowing city 

Whose white feet are stayed at the gates of the main." 



14 





©Ije Coll^Q^ iFoxtntatn 

Rise to eastward, rise to westward 
Classic halls to guard thee so, — 
Therebetween a pathway granting 
Curving access to and fro. — 
Campus-slopes before and after, 
Undulous, like billows slow; 
And within the gravel-closure, 
Bended like a crescent-bow. 
Stands a marble, urnlike fountain 
All in crystal overflow. 
Stands memorial and reminder 
Of the times called ''Long Ago*': 
And beneath the bubbling basin, 
And the basin-shaft below, 
All in uncouth Grecian letters 
Twists a motto, running so: 
Running opSov^^Oa /SovXrj 
With the date of long ago. 
Still the marble margin sparkles 
Like the white of driven snow, 
And the crystal beads are dropping 
Still in flashing overflow, 
Binding thus, with chains of diamonds, 
Present scenes to "Long Ago". 



15 




"Green behind it waves the forest 
And the carpet-grass is green" 



i6 



A P00t^a (grau^ 



In the calm Chenango valley, 
(Never valley spread more fair) 

On the greenest of its hillsides 
Is a spot we count most rare, 

Worthy of the Grecian Muses 
For a poet slumbers there. 



Green behind it waves the forest 
And the carpet-grass is green; 

To the northward, maple-shaded, 
Is a quiet village seen, 

And a stately college campus 
Gracefully descends between. 

Chiseled shapes of gleaming marble 
From the waving sward arise, 

Faithful fingers pointing upward 
To the over-smiling skies. 

Where the soul-freed, hillside-sleepers 
Walk the vales of Paradise. 



And beside a massive marble. 
Central in that gleaming throng, 

(Vocal pinetrees over-sweep it 
With soft murmurs, season-long,) 

Sleeps a singer of sweet music, 
Rests a fashioner of song. 



17 



May it be the sighing wind-harps 
When the breezes fresher blow? 

May it be the rippling grave-grass 
Bending, singing, to and fro? 

Nay, it is forgotten music 
From the Isles of **Long Ago". 

May it be some loved one calling 
Who in ''Dulce Domum" waits? 

Some "Sheaf-laden harvest-worker 

Shouting backward to his mates? 

Nay, it is an angel-vesper 
Scarcely heard "Between the Gates." 

Thus the hillside sings incessant, 
And the vocal things around, 

Praises of our own loved Poet 

Whom the waiting world has crowned 

As a maker of sweet measures, 
As a master of sweet sound. 




"To the northward, maple-shaded. 
Is a quiet village seen." 



Baa Hamilton-Sri^al 

Tief in dem blauen Thale 
Beshattet liegt die Stadt. 

Weisz glanzt die Alma Mater, 
Die uns gepfleget hat. 

Kein Dorf, mich diinkt, ist schoner; 

Kein Thai so anmutsvoll. 
Kennst du die Hligelreihen? 

Die Ulmen kennst du - wohl? 



19 



Sriy^ JEak^ an ti^t^ Campua 



* * * the light of Heaven varies, now 

At sunrise, now at sunset, now by night 

With moon and trembling stars * * Tennyson. 



Thou art an opal ranging 
To the deeps of sapphire-blue, 

In a golden sunray-setting 
All the burning daylight through. 

Thou art a magic mirror 
When twilight shadows play; 

Thy pearly depths inverting 
The forms we know by day. 

Thou art a jasper pavement 

In star-mosaics laid, 
When o'er thy evening-beauty 

Has fallen deeper shade. 



Thou art a lucent jewel 
On Colgate's rolling breast. 

And of thy changing beauties 
We know not which is best. 



20 




fc-^ I^IjiloBOpIig— ®f tifp prom ®trl 



^1 RM THE SHORT-LIVEb 
''^ COLLEGE ROSE 

tmrt B{?»w5 for h nf6«T 



Old are the college walls — so old ; 

Romance is older than they. 
Metal and mortar will crumble and rust; 

Love is a Youth alway. 



Fast are the flying hours, too fast, 
In the dances whirled away; 

I am the short-lived college rose 
That blooms for a night and a day. 

Gone are the ancient glories — gone; 

Thebes is a heap of clay. 
I am the short-lived college rose; 

Love is a Youth alway. 




/^ 




"Gone are the ancient glories — gone; 
Thebes is a heap of clay." 



21 



^ift ffiatu of Colgate 

This is the law of thy Mother, and ever she makes 

it sure; 
Saying, 'Only the clean shall enter, and only the real 

shall endure'. 



I am the Mother who beckons, I am the Mother who 

calls, 
Seated in tranquil beauty, circled by sapphire walls. 
Poiseful I rest on my hillsides as the sea-fronting 

temples of Greece, 
In my vales are the ways of pleasantness, and my paths 

are the paths of peace. 
Wide and deep are my borders, my line has gone out 

through the lands. 
The mountains have claimed me for Mother, the valleys 

have touched my hands; 
And I call to the lands that know me, to the cities that 

feel my power 
For the sons who shall strive for my blessing and it 

will not be won in an hour. 



Send me your manly and earnest, send me your genuine 

ones. 
Them will I love as a Mother, them will I make my 

sons, 
Them will I clasp to my bosom, feeding them warm at 

my breast, 
Blessing them with my blessing and truly they shall be 

blest— 



22 



With poise and with power and with patience, with 

depth and resources of soul, 
Them will I dower with my vision, to see not in part 

but in whole. 

But the sham and the snob and the slothful, the litter 

and foam of the street — 
Lo, I cast them back from my portals, I trample them 

under my feet. 
I harry them sore in my combats, I laugh them to scorn 

in my halls. 
Their baseness I burn in my acids, I spurn them from 

under my walls. 

But my tried and my tested and chosen, my proven 

and genuine ones 
Shall rise up to call me blessed, shall circle their Mother 

with sons. 
Them will I mould as a metal, them will I temper again, 
And the sons of the sons of my children shall find me 

the Mother of men. 
I am the Mother who listens, I am the Mother who 

waits. 
And the sons of the sons of my children have clamored 

before my gates. 
This is the law of thy Mother—, Lo, I have made it 

plain, 
That only the pure shall prosper, and only the real 

remain. 



23 



A CointiJi^nr^ 




{The ''Old Grad'' Muses.) 

ED roses and my first love (I scarce was seventeen) 
And ne'er did orient ivory bear up so much a queen! 
I ordered red, red roses, and yet their carmine flame 
Against her crimson kisses was put, I thought, to 

shame. 
I ordered from the city (some twenty miles away) 
And at the High School Banquet that night was none 

more gay, 
For in the whirling dances it pleased us all should see 
The fateful, crimson rosebud that she had given me. 
Her cheeks were like twin roses, her silky hair was jet. 
"Ne'er, ne'er to be forgotten!" and **never to forget!" 
I scarce recall one whisper of all our wild lips said, — 
I w^onder if she's married — I hope she is not dead. 
Red roses and my boy-love! Ah, how the years have 

flown, 
I cannot tell her first name, so many I have known! 



Dark pansies and my next love; the tide was rising 

strong: 
She came to me on Prom nights with music and with 

song. 
I purchased purple pansies, and yet their royal dyes 
Were pale against the azure that deepened in her eyes. 
Waltz music poured upon us — it stirred the rising blood — 
I bore her through the eddies of that melodious flood. 
Her breasts were like two lilies, her hair was golden 

bands — 
It gave the thrill of sunlight under my ardent hands. 



24 



"Forever and forever!" "Forever and for aye!" 
(Whence come the vast "forevers" that lovers give 

away?) 
Her gold-and-purple beauty, how could a man forget? 
(I have an old address book might give her full name 

yet.) 
Those Veilchen made me thoughtful (for Pater's check 

was slow) — 
They say her son's in Colgate. I really do not know. 
Dark pansies and my youth-love! And ah, the years 

between, 
I would not know her face now, so many I have seen! 



My wife trains crimson roses to stain our garden wall, 
My daughter clusters pansies where shadows deepest 

fall. 
(Red roses and dark pansies ! How many loves there be 
Immortalized in rose- jars that breathe of Araby.) 
But vanished roses' beauty steals o'er me, if at all, 
WTien tangled in the sweetness of those against the wall. 
Old loves are gone forever, if loves they were, that came. 
My daughter's eyes are darker than any flower ye name; 
Her mother's lips are carmine, no rose is half so fair. 
But when the smoke-rings waver above my evening 

chair 
I sometimes wonder, wonder, if cunning fate — — 

who knows? 
(My daughter's eyes are azure, her lips are dashed with 

rose.) 



25 



r-' 




"On the hills my foot is sure' 



26 



Here I stand. 
Regnant o'er surrounding land. 
Arteries hid my conduits are, 
Pulsing from my heart afar 
Where the crystal fluid slips 
To the waiting goblet's lips. 
On the lawns my steps are light 
As the dews that fall at night — 
Needful trouble of the rain. 
Made to go and come again. 
Mine is magic ever new ; 
Only once the Prophet drew 
From the rock-surrounded springs 
Streams for thirsty murmurings. 
On the hills my foot is sure: 
Vale be steadfast and secure! 
Town, that Phoenix-like did bum 
Only fairer to return, 
Nevermore may Daemon-Fire 
At thy waiting walls aspire, 
For my silver wand doth know 
Spell at once to lay him low. 



27 




West Cnll^g^ 

This is the time-honored story the Ancient Stones 
repeat. 

What time, in the Hour of Shadows, the College Build- 
ings meet. 

* 'Where the sleeping billows broaden 

To a land-locked long repose 
I was lone; then slow about me 

Fairer, later Halls arose, 
Standing brotherlike together 

In a verdant campus-close. 



28 



Weight of four score weary winters 
Has oppressed with ice and snow 

And the shafts of eighty summers 
Have assailed with fiery glow; 

Smiting winds from every quarter 
Have essayed to lay me low. 

Ah, those days! The days departed! 

Oft I held the festive throng, 
While the jest rose high within me 

And the laugh was loud and long; 
Now I hear the insects shrilling 

And the night-birds' even-song. 

And my old men doting, dreaming, 
View the past through gilded haze; 

Orbed full-perfect, reappearing. 
Seem their far-off college days, 

And how fallen seems the present 
Upon strange, untutored ways! 



Hold ! A deeper vision flashes. 
As upon the ancient seers: 

Change I shall but shall not vanish, 
Nor is any cause for fears, 

For my life is reincarnate. 
New-transmuted down the years. 



29 



And my young men shall see visions, 
Mirage-gleaming bright before, 

Where their names and deeds go sounding 
Down the world forevermore. 

May they find some green oasis. 
Ere the journey be quite o'er!" 

This is the venerable story the Ancient Walls inpart. 
And the younger Pillars listen, though they know the 
tale by heart. 




"Standing brotherlike together 
In a verdant campus-close." 



30 




Stj^ ICtbrary 

(The Mother of Learning Speaks) 

I would not force red-blooded men who throng 

The g3^m, the campus and athletic field 

To take the treasures that my shelves can yield 

In science, art, philosophy, and song. 

Team- trained, sport-hardened, sons I would, made 

strong 
For times of test, deep-chested and nerve-steeled; 
But not in Kadesh by a fountain sealed 
(Its worth unguessed) shall you remain too long. 

Untrained by me, untrained, a man departs; 
My pulse is beating with the tide of things 
That from the bosom of the ages springs; 
I am your Mother's heart — her heart of hearts. 
You shall not pass from me to Promised Lands 
Till spring-compelling rods be in your hands. 

31 




"5 -^ 

'% o 

.5 o 

4-1 CO 



03 



CO j: 
•— .^ 

3 2 

a -a 



Color-mad festival! 

Riot of rose! 
Free for the best of all ! 

Chassez! Repose! 

Thongs interplaited 

Trellised on high. 
Banners serrated 

Hanging hard by. 

Deep-throated laughter! 

Colgate in song! 
Feasting! and after 

"Shake" and "So long!" 

Banqueting over! 

Spectrum-hued rain, 
Falling to cover 

Partings that pain. 

Pelting and parting ! 

On with the fun! 
Lest the tear starting 

Chances to run! 

Color-spouts whirling 
Orange-hued mist! 

Snow-spirals swirling 
Stains amethyst! 

33 



Rainbows, earth-stranded, 
Bracing the beams! 

Tints iris-banded 
Flowing in streams! 

Ribbons no duller 
Staining the woof! 

Cloud-bursts of color 
Sweeping the roof! 

Purples from polar 
Regions of night! 

Crimsons from solar 
Seven-hued light! 

Prussian and cinnabar, 

Lilac and green, 
Iridesce in a bar 

Bronze-damascene ! 

Pelting and parting! 

Chassez! Repose! 
All homeward starting 

Color-of-rose ! 



34 



Eift Willant ^atlr 

"Near the lake where drooped the willow 

Long time ago — ' ' — George Pope Morris. 

On my walls are many pictures artist-friends have 
made for me; 

There, my castles crown Saint Lawrence, there, Ber- 
muda sits at sea, 

Here, my own immortal Como holds the light of Italy. 

Look on this frame, hanging nearer. So; the depth 

is better seen. 
'Tis a long perspective gliding under glimmering 

walls of green. 
Hasting back as if for hiding, and slant willows overlean. 



From that arch a gay procession makes as if 't would 

issue soon. 
But it never yet has issued for the light is less than noon, 
And the spring tide's rising glory is not rounded yet to 

June. 

Still those willow patterns quiver, still those amber 

branches sway 
Over waters gliding ever down a babbling, silver way. 
Where the rosy light is morning and the May is always 

May. 



35 



Many kingdoms, thus, and climates, gleam upon my 

study wall; 
There, the Courts of Karnak crumble, here, the ruddy 

apples fall, 
And the Pathway of the Willows is the fairest of them 

all. 



In the dewy hush of evening, when the clover-blooms 

grow strong. 
Oft I hear the lilt of music, catch the echo of a song 
Rolling down these rolling hillsides, in those valleys 

sounding long. 



PiiNT mb F^Q "Tnc 5firac r°m 6p\q\t i^nicn inc nL^oy 
- r:)iLn-v?niTE: br\^^z, 




36 



Near my desk hang pleasing pictures artist- friends have 

made for me; 
There, the campanulas tinkle, there, floats Venice 

veined of sea, 
But the picture fairest, nearest, is a willow tracery. 




'Tis a long perspective gliding under glimmering walls of green. 



37 




3 






Mater ave atque vale, let us bless thee ere we go — 
Tenderest of loving Mothers in the daisies and the snow. 
O'er thy flowery campus-closes now the winds of 

summer blow 
And thy silvery mirror shimmers through the waving 

green below. 
Toward thy pleasant Halls and stately, oft our laggard 

feet were slow; 
We have sipped, not drunk, the fountains from thy 

deep-welled heart that flow. 
Gathered but a leaf of learning where the trees of 

knowledge grow — 
(Haply 'tis a deeper wisdom if we know we do not 

know.) 
Through thy gates a constant river. Youth's true 

Fount, shall flash and flow, — 
Noisy, foaming as it enters, leaving deepened, and more 

slow. 
Colgate, Mother, thou hast calmed us, let us bless thee 

ere we go. 



Blessed be thy pillared porches, though the student 

foot be slow; 
Blessed be thy jewelled mirror, waving, gleaming, there 

below; 
Blessed be thy fields of sunmier where the gold-eyed 

daisies grow; 
And thy days of winter blessed with the storm-clouds 

and the snow. 
Colgate, Mother, thou hast reared us, thine the only 

arm we know. 
Mater ave atque vale; thou hast blessed us. Let us go. 



39 



MERCURIUS 



A Lay of Modern Rome 



Sung at the feasts 
of 

MERCURY 

The same being 

A 

Mosaic 

from 
Macaulay 




Herald, Hail! Mercurius! 
Hail snake-twined Caduceus! 



MttturxuB 

Herald, Hail! Mercurius! 
Hail snake-twined Caduceus! 

I 

To-night the walls and windows 

Are hung with banners all, 
And a band of lusty brothers 

Will keep the outer hall. 
While flows Chenango's river. 

While stands our College Hill, 
The banquets of Mercurius 

Shall have such honor still. 

n 

Ye men of Even Numbers, 

With stalwart hearts and true, 
Who stand by bold Mercurius 

That still has stood by you. 
Come, hush the circle round me, 

And list my tale with care 
Of what our Hero once hath borne. 

And what he yet may bear. 
No Syracusan fable 

Of Colgate's * 'wavering line", 
No tale of Orange banners 

And men that root like swine. 
Though by my Alma Mater 

It is a goodly sight 
To see the hated Orange 

Swept down the tide of flight; 
To see her warriors scattered 

Like boats with broken sails, 



45 



When raves Lake Onondaga 

Beneath the northern gales, 
When Syracusan score-marks 

Have met their wonted doom, 
And the sea of Orange banners 

Is veiled in inky gloom; 
But on our very Campus 

These stirring deeds took place, 
In midnights dark when none might mark 

His hand before his face. 
Ill 
Since first the great Mercurius 

Of mortal eye was seen, 
Have years gone by two decades 

Four units and thirteen. 
Whence came the great Olympian 

To keep this happy feast 
But few can say and no one may, 

^Vhether from west or east. 

IV 

Sylvanius Deceptimus 

Within the city's wall 
Hath met by fate a maiden 

Like a red rose and tall; 
Hath met by chance a damsel 

Like a white rose and red, 
And what Sylvanius told her 

It needs not now be said, 
For men that warm to football 

In loving wax not cold : 
Wherefore Love's ways have altered not 

Since the brave days of old. 
Men say he saw her nightly, 

When none beside might see, 



46 



And that her words were in his ears 

Which none might hear but he; 
And while she plied her house-craft, 

In a sweet voice and low 
She sang the sweet old ballads 

And loves loved long ago. 
So wooed he, and so sang she, 

Until the knot was fast, 
And toward Sylvania's mountains 

The bridal party passed. 

V 
Sylvanius Deceptimus 

By the Nine Gods he swore 
That the valley of Chenango 

Should art-less be no more. 
By the Nine Gods he swore it, 

And named a testing day. 
When artists north and artists south 

Might summon their array. 
The bronzes and near-bronzes 

Are pouring in amain 
From many a stately market-place, 

Form many a fruitful plain; 
And many a chosen artist, 

The greatest of the land. 
Hath put before Deceptimus 

The cunning of his hand, 
But with one voice the judges 

Have their glad answer given: 
*'Go forth, go forth, Mercurius, 

Go, Messenger of Heaven ! 
Go, shed thy deathless beauty 

O'er wild Chenango's foam, 
And sing Sylvanius' praises 

From Nineveh to Rome!'* 



47 



VI 

I wis, in all the College, 

There was no heart so cold, 
But warm it throbbed and fast it beat 

When that good news was told. 
Forthwith up rose the Elders, 

Up rose the Young Men all 
And hastened swift to place the gift 

Beside the western wall. 
They took the brazen image. 

And set it up on high, 
And here he stands before you 

To witness if I lie. 

VII 

Not without secret trouble 

May I pursue the tale, 
(O, Mighty Herald, spare me. 

But truth must still prevail !) 
For plainly and more plainly, 

Along his godlike back. 
Now might ye see the metal (?) 

Begin to peel and crack; 
And plainly and more plainly. 

From head piece down to heel. 
His crafty, skin-deep beauty 

Was seen to crack and peel. 
The bronze that peels and crackles, — 

Too nude thereof to speak, — 
So kindly those who dwelt on high 

Soon gave unto the Greek 
The nearest-needed garments. 

That in less brazen guise 
The naive, scabby Herald 

In open air might rise: 



48 



And likewise tints of Tyre, 

In lead and oil ground, 
Upon his manly muscles 

In many coats were found. 

VIII 

Long, long, it were to follow. 

And little were the need. 
The glorious narrations 

Of many a manful deed. 
And many a Line of Labors 

Whereon our Hero fell; 
The Even Numbers know them, 

There is no need to tell. 
Behold they stand in writing 

Upon thy Mother's scroll, — 
Go ponder well its meaning. 

Go read aright the roll. 

IX 

Our purple valley knew him, 

And spread her careful loam, 
That in her breast the God might rest 

Whose wont it is to roam. 
Now, o'er his place of slumber. 

Are farms and pastures seen, 
And rows of com and fields of wheat 

And apple-orchards green; 
The plowshare nms its furrow; 

The farmer wields his hoe; 
Little he thinks on those fleet limbs 

That mouldered once below. 
Little he knows how sternly 

The roar of battle rose. 
Like the roar of a burning forest. 

When a strong north wind blows; 



49 



How thick the maimed lay scattered 

Under Albania's height; 
How through the gates of Utica 

Raved the wild stream of flight; 
And how good Father Mohawk 

Bubbled with crimson foam, 
What time the Wrong-Sized Numbers 

Beset the walls of Rome. 

X 

But, Comrade, when thou sittest 

Before the banquet gay. 
Think thou with heed upon the deed 

Of many a vanished day; 
So shalt thou kiss his toe-nail, 

If aught remain of toe. 
For sandals, wings and serpents 

Have vanished long ago. 
Thus to the great Mercurius 

Vow thou thy vows and pray 
That he, in banquet and in fight, 

May keep his head alway. 
Back comes the class in triumph, 

Which in the festal hour, 
Hath kept the God Mercurius 

Full safely in their power. 
Ye men of Odd-Sized Numbers, 

We bid you bide in fear. 
What time the God's own Herald 

Would seek ambrosial cheer. 
But if ye still be stubborn 

To work our Idol wrong. 
The Even Numbers warn you. 

Look that your bones be,strong. 



50 



XI 

All hail to Mother Colgate! 

Let the Long Call be given! 
Hail to the Hill that stands for aye, 

And the Messenger of Heaven! 
The foe shall rise against thee 

In the City of the Salt; 
More wise, perchance, her warriors were 

To ponder and to halt, 
Ere on her trampled banners 

Rest the good Colgate heel, 
And wriggling in the dust she lie, 

Like a worm beneath the wheel. 
Hurrah for the brave warriors 

That round our Mother stand! 
Hurrah for Colgate Spirit, 

And a stout Colgate hand! 

XII 

So when the months returning 

Bring back the days of fight, 
The banquets of Mercurius, 

Marked evermore in white, 
Unto the great Olympian 

Let all the brothers throng 
With music and with laughter, 

With feasting and with song, 
And let the walls and windows 

Be hung with banners all. 
Let not a brother hasten 

To catch the Cannon Ball 
But worship Winged Mercurius 

Of the great Olympian line, 
Who reips on Colgate's Campus 

With the scepter serpentine; 



51 



For still his name sounds stirring 

Far o'er Oneida's foam, 
And like a blast, his fame has passed 

From Utica to Rome. 
And in the years ensuing 

Oft shall the tale be told, 
How well we kept our Idol 

In the brave days of old. 



52 



Notes 

It is said that "the art of leaving off" is a very charming and a 
very rare one. An Ancient People have long won honorable mention 
by their consistent use of this art— this "naught in overplus." 
"The art of leaving out" is even rarer and more charming— saving 
situations by the thing we do not do. And so with notes; for, 
like words to the wise, they are usually superfluous. 

Intelligibility, as well as emotion, should dwell in the tents of 
poetry; and it is perhaps not too much to expect poems of place and 
incident to shadow forth some glimmering of the affairs they profess 
to celebrate. 

Edmund Vance Cooke dedicates his "Impertinent Poems" "to 
whomever may like them." We believe these poems will be in- 
telligible to whomever may read them. But the Obvious is fre- 
quently explained. 

Written as they are around the Colgate theme, the strength 
and life of these poems is the strength and life and glory that is 
Colgate. But it is possible that some who do not know Colgate 
intimately may, by the turn of circumstance, grant this small book 
a bit of time. Let us be pleased to fancy it. And to those, our 
friends of tangent, if not concentric, interests we mention the tra- 
dition or custom of Colgate upon which a poem hinges, when the 
allusion is not of itself evident. 



THE COLLEGE FOUNTAIN 

One of the rare beauties of Hamilton, our sister college to the 
north, consists in the numerous memorials which literally dot her 
campus. It is a field of memories. Here a tablet, there a sundial, 
farther on some god in fleeing marble— all set in the wavy plush 
of the campus grass and framed in borders of elms that were very old 
before most of us were young. And each memorial is a fortress of 
the memory for some class, a physical symbol of their permanent 
psychical connection with their Alma Mater. 

We admire Hamilton. We do not envy her. Our memorials 
are "fewer,— scattered stars", and therefore, do we cherish each the 

53 



more, but may Heaven and class spirit, class spirit looking to the 
coming years somewhat and its own numeral less, — may these, and 
all good fortune, multiply the memorials on our campus for like 
Milton's sonnets thay are "alas, too few!" 

The memorial which the little piece celebrates is the fountain 
set up by the Class of 1872 between West College and Alumni Hall. 
Several interesting letters have been received by the writer from 
members of that class concerning the fountain. It appears that the 
legend cut upon the stone, opOov/xeOa jSovXrj, was their class 
motto, "We prosper by council" meaning, we think, that first they 
assured themselves they were right and then went ahead. 

Would that the poetry, 

"And the crystal beads are dropping 
Still in flashing overflow" 

were truth also, but it is only after the summer showers that the 
birds now bathe in the hollowed marble. Like the water in the 
Dormouse's well, the water in the fountain is "well in." Why may 
not the campus- winds that wave the maples "wave the slender jet 
of water" as they did of yore? Here is a fountain that is not a 
fountain, for the crystal soul of the water has left it. The golden 
bowl is not broken. Is it, then, the wheel at the cistern? Our 
sweet poet who sleeps on the nearest hillside sang of inevitable 
imperfections — 

"There's a harp unswept and a lute without strings. 
There are broken vows and pieces of rings." 

But is our Fountain inevitably interrupted? 



"TO CATCH THE CANNON BALL" 

The "Cannon Ball" is a mixed train (number 68) on the Utica 
division of the New York, Ontario and Western, leaving Utica at 
11:15 P. M., for Norwich and scheduled to arrive in Hamilton at 
I :io A. M. It is said to be a matter of record that on one occasion 
it did arrive at that hour. 

The accommodation coach is wedged between grinding freight 
cars; feeble oil lamps shed a faint radiance and strong odor over the 
sleepy forms. It is Utica for the night, or this — likewise for the 
night. Number 68 is the "last infirmity of noble minds." Several 



54 



excellent trains pass over the division. This is a popular train. 
Though wholly elective, number 68 is "taken" regularly by all 
Colgate men. 



A POET'S GRAVE 

Benjamin F. Taylor was bom in Lowville, Lewis County, N.Y., 
July 19 1819, graduated from Madison University in 1838, died in 
Clevelaiid, Ohio, February 24, 1887, and was buried in the College 
plot at Hamilton. 

He is without doubt the greatest poet and the most charming 
essayist that Colgate has yet produced. By the London Times he 
was styled the Oliver Goldsmith ot America. Take him from the 
shelf and let him speak to you a moment-and you are his forever- 
every essay has a delightful turn, every poem some inevitable and 
haunting phrase. Let Homer nod while Taylor sings to you what 
Colgate and the Northland was. 

The allusions throughout the poem are to the titles of separate 
poems and to complete volumes of his work. 

WATER TOWER 

"Town that Phoenix-like did burn"— an allusion to the great 
fire of Hamilton which occurred on the evening of Tuesday, February 
10 1895 The business portion of the village was almost entirely 
destroyed. By one of the ironies of Fate the present excellent 
water system which would have done much toward saving the village 
lacked but very Httle of completion. 



WEST COLLEGE 
The period in the life of West College of which this piece is 
supposed to give a glimose is about the year 19 10. 

Excellent histories of the early days of Madison University 
are available and from them we quote— particularly from the 
article prepared by Prof. Ralph Wilmer Thomas for the 1899 History 
of Madison County, N. Y., by John E. Smith. 

"Under the name of the 'Baptist Edication Society of the State 
of New York', a charter was obtained from the Legislature, March 5, 

55 



1 8 19- On the 3d of November, 1S19, a committee of the society- 
decided that the institution should be located at Hamilton." 



"For nineteen years the institution was purely a ministerial 
school, admitting only those who wished to enter the ministry and 
had been approved by their respective churches. The students soon 
began to come in such numbers as to tax severely the limited re- 
sources of the young institution. A larger building was occupied 
in 1823, but this soon proved too small, and the authorities began 
to look for a permanent home for The School of the Prophets.' 
On March 11, 1826, Deacon Samuel Pa\-ne gave his farm to the society 
and here was erected in 1S27 the 'Western Edifice' now known as 
West College. The school continued to grow, and in 1S33, the 
'Eastern Edifice' was built — now known as East College. In 1838 
a large boarding hall was erected on the plain below the hill, and 
between 1S35 and 1838 three houses for professors had been added 
to the property of the instutution." 

It is with special pleasure that we quote from the delightful 
"Alumni Reminiscences" by Dr. Newton Lloyd Andrews published 
in the Salmagundi of 1908: 

"The University buildings were then, [1858], the Western 
Edifice, the Eastern Edifice, and the Cottage Edifice. This last was a 
one-stor\' stone structure on ground a little to the east of the north 
end of our present Alumni Hall." ****** 

"West College was a dormitory, e.xcept the top floor. That for 
the most part was the chapel, though the western end was divided 
into three class-rooms. " ******:^* 

"The central part of the present top-stor}- of West College was 
not then floored over. The four sides of the chapel surrounded and 
looked down upon 'the pit', which was on a level with the third floor. 
This smaller enclosure had students' rooms oDening out of it, which 
were imder the sides and ends of the top-floor. The pit had fixed 
benches, and was often used for students' meetings. Box-stoves in 
two comers of it served to heat the whole chapel." * * * 

"The pit was nice to slip into, when one was too late to take his 
seat with his class above, and yet wanted to answer 'chapel' to the 
daily roll-call. Those making chapel thus could not be easily seen 
from the Facult}--settees. It is a pity the old chapel does not 
survive in a picture! The organ and choir were at the east end, 

56 



opposite the Faculty, on the top-floor beyond the pit. On the 
north side sat the Academes, in front of the choir were the Freshmen 
and Sophomores, while the benches of the south side accommodated 
Juniors, Seniors, and Theologues." ****** 

"Shall the University Boarding-Hall escape recollection? 
Would that it might! Happily I did not board there long. To 'eat 
one's way through it' from Junior Academe to Senior Theologue was 
to risk the loss of good digestion and good manners". * * 

"But what of the fellows themselves? They were a good lot. 
For brains and for character there has been no higher average, 
though even then there was talk of the 'palmy days'." * * 

"The evening after the Commencement of '6i, at the 'Confer- 
ence of Alumni and Friends', which meant then what Alumni Dinner 
speeches mean now, profuse commendation of the class just gradu- 
ated found its climax in the question 'Shall we ever see its equal?' 
A voice from the gallery (let me now acknowledge it was mine) 
replied 'Yes! next year.' " 

Another charming sketch of West College by Albert Perry 
Brigham appears in the same number of the Salmagundi — a por- 
tion to this effect — "But there were tall daisies growing in the grass, 
save when in June the janitor husbanded a brief time from selling old 
furniture to the boys and swept the meadow with his annual destruc- 
tion. With firm hand he removed the ash heaps, the professors 
painted their front steps, and Commencement was here. 

"President Dodge put on his white, tall hat, the horses were 
hitched about the campus and all the graduates, to the last m.an, 
spoke in the vast spaces now cut up into comfortables comers on the 
top floor of Alumni Hall. There were Valedictories, and classical, 
and philosophical orations, orations of the 'first class,' and some 
poor fellows had the humble joy of speaking only 'orations.' 

"But notwithstanding ash heaps and other primitive things, the 
Hill was not so bad a place after all. There was a quarr>' to declaim 
in, the bits ot beech and hemlock woods were venerable even then, 
and Dart's Orchard was not far away. The college graveyard was 
under the upper woods and there were hallowed places on the gentle 
slope, as there are more today. More than all, East and West Colleges 
were brimming with men, — they were not five story monuments of 
damp and darkness, but full of plain fellows who did much work, 
and had a good time." ***** * * * 



57 



"There was a college bell in those days, — may Heaven bless the 
time, and punish the vandal who stole the precious relic, and send us 
a friend to rear a noble chime of bells to tell again in noble tones to 
answering hills, the story of the college. 

"Doleful as it is today, the sanctuary of the campus will never 
be other than West College. Stoves, whitewash, cold floors, coal 
bins and all, it is our choice bit of antiquity, foursquare, solid, and 
full of memory." 

After these "good old days", though just how far after "in 
calendar months and days" we cannot state, the college life ebbed 
slowly away from the Hill. The men lived and had their being in 
the Fraternity Houses and in private rooms about the village. Only 
here and there — and rarely at that — was the room of student found 
along the teetering floors. 

In the winter of 1909-10 came news that the old building was to 
be renewed. After chapel on the morning when this news was an- 
nounced the whole student body and faculty marched in file, singing 
and shouting, through all the stories of old West College. The old 
stairways trembled threateningly under the hilarious feet. 

West College is reincarnated indeed. Pleasantly and con- 
veniently appointed, it is again rightfully a center of Colgate life. 
The vision of the stones has become a reality, "new-transmuted 
down the years." 



FARBENSPIEL 

Commencement Week closes with the Alumni Dinner and the 
Alumni Dinner closes with a confetti battle. The banquet is held in 
the Gymnasium, gaily decorated with the banners of many colleges. 
An oval gallery surrounds the main floor of the building. From 
side to side and end to end of this gallery is strung a series of taut 
cords, suspending, thus, above the heads of the banqueters a vast 
net, the meshes of which are about two feet square ("thongs inter- 
plaited, trellised on high"). 

As he enters the banquet hall, each man is given a generous 
supply of confetti and coils of colored paper ribbon — preparedness 
should extend to carnivals. 

58 



Ultimately the speeches are finished. A wavering instant — 
and the hall is a mass of color and motion. Thousands of the 
brilliant streamers shoot up, catch on the meshes of the net and 
tangle among the struggling forms. It rains and hails and snows 
confetti. It is color-weather. You have been caught in summer 
thunder-showers when "it came down in sheets"; this is very like, 
and you take a fierce hand in the general cyclone. The orchestra is 
playing fast music, the crowd is surging, refluent,— pushing toward 
the doors. 



For weeks your pockets and the cuffs of your trousers yield 
bright-colored bits of paper. 

MERCURIUS 

All Colgate men know how much Mercury signifies in the college 
life. No better note could be found to accompany this parody than 
the "Life History of Mercury" appearing in the Colgate Madisonen- 
sis of December 19, 19 14, and with the kind consent of the Madi- 
sonensis management we append practically the whole article. 

This riming history of Mercury is written by a man of the 
even classes, without malice, but with no apologies. However, 
lest us say that if in some far off (and suppositional) Olympiad, 
by some mischance. Mercury might temporarily be a guest of the Odd 
Numbers, the poem by a slight legerdemain would still apply. 
Change "odd-sized" to "even" and vice versa and the poem still fits 
like a sandal. We suggest these mental reservations, even in the 
present work, to the reluctant purchaser of the "odd-sized" years. 
At all events he will want the drawing of Mercury done from life. 
We hereby thank Mercury for the favor of sitting and for many 
favors gone before. 

LIFE HISTORY OF "MERCURY" 

Origin of the Custom. Interesting Events in Career of 

Famous "Bird". 

"They say that if you go back far enough you will always find a 
woman in the case. Tracing the history of the now sacred god 
Mercury back to original sources, we find that such proved to be the 
fact in this time-honored college tradition. Had it not been for a 



59 



certain fair daughter of Eve who resided in Hamilton in the late 
70's, Mercury and all it means would probably have never become 
such an important factor in Colgate life. It all came about in this 
wise. 

A wealthy, public-spirited gentleman from Pittsburg, Pa., 
becoming enamored of an attractive damsel in Hamilton, N. Y., 
in his frequent visits to that village noted and bemoaned the sad lack 
of decorative statuary. Desiring to remedy this defect, he mag- 
nanimously offered to present the town with a life-size, bronze 
statue of a Continental soldier, on condition that it should provide 
the pedestal. His offer being accepted, the statue was soon in its 
appointed place, being unveiled with due ceremony by Dr. Sylvester 
Burnham of the Seminary. 

Elated with the success of this venture, the generous manu- 
facturer made a similar offer to the class of 1879, then Seniors, 
suggesting a bronze statue of the god Mercury. This kind offer 
was also accepted and soon the god was duly installed at the head 
of college hill, between Alumni and West Halls. Thus both the 
town and college were indebted to this admirer of Hamilton's fair 
sex, one of whom he married. 

Some two years passed and a keen-eyed observer noted that the 
bronze on the "American Volunteer" was beginning to peel and it 
soon resembled a tattered soldier at Valley Forge. A whitish sub- 
stance began to show, and the citizens had the statue quietly removed. 

Becoming suspicious of the real make-up of Mercury, the stu- 
dents noticed that their god was suffering the same fate and he was 
then familiarly known as the "God of the Scabby Back." Student 
pranks soon robbed him of his divine dignity. The first decoration 
was an attempt to mitigate the shamelessness of his nudity by a suit 
of underwear. Later he was treated to a coat of pink paint and a 
pail placed in his hand. Not content with such liberties, the boys 
took the statue one night and placed it in the front yard of the 
"Fem. Sem." From there a professor removed it to a cellar. This 
was in 1887 and our own Dean Crawshaw was one ot a committee 
who later used the statue in celebrating the death of Livy, labelling 
it, "Stolen from the Sophomores." 

All trace of the fake god was lost and in spite of many schemes 
to unearth it, for over a dozen years it reposed peacefully amid some 
lumber in Dr. Taylor's cellar. A clew to its whereabouts was gained 
through Henry W. Taylor, and he with Harry E. Fosdick, '00, and 

60 



Nelson L. Greene, 'oi, in the absence of "Jimmie", brought it to 
light one night in October, 1899. It thus became the possession of 
the Class of 1903, who were to keep it from '04 and hand it over to 
1905. In common with all other treasures, the natural place for 
it was Mother Earth, so it was buried near Pecksport, but on April 
27th, 1900 it was found by a laborer. However it appeared in Utica 
at the First Mercury Banquet and since that time the class in posses- 
sion have been under obligation to hold their annual spread under its 
special surveillance. A few simple rules were drawn up and al- 
though revised from time to time, the spirit is the same as when first 
started, namely, that its possession is invaluable and its loss an 
irreparable disgrace. 

The rules governing the possession ot this ambulatory divinity 
provided that the class holding the statue were to retain it until they 
became Juniors, when they were to hand it over to the entering 
Freshmen, they were to hold at least one Mercury Banquet during the 
year at which the "bird" must be present. It was not to be hidden 
outside the limits of the Chenango Valley, between Earlville and 
Bouckville; and force was never to take the place of strategy in gain- 
ing possession of the statue. October 28th, 1899, according to the 
records, was the date of the First Mercury Banquet, which was held 
in Utica. Since then every Mercury class has had the honor of 
kissing the toe of their idol. 

Passing over the intervening 5 years, we come to another 
time of great importance in the history of this college tradition, 
namely, its changing from the odd to the even classes. The Day of 
Prayer for colleges was perhaps the saddest in all Mercury history; 
it was the turning point of his life, and for almost ten years it has 
showered its favors on the even classes. It came about in this wise. 
The class of 1908 knew more about the coming Sophomore banquet 
than did some of the second-year men themselves, and so through 
a strategic stroke they secured possession of this beloved divinity at 
Binghamton. Among the many places that the "bird" has appeared 
at the festive boards of the Mercury classes are: Albany, Binghamton, 
Greene, Sidney, Syracuse, Rome and Utica. Numerous and hard- 
fought have been the struggles for its possession and its many narrow 
escapes would fill a volume. Money has never stood in the way of 
attempts to inveigle the saintly form back to its first love, and in its 
journeys over Central New York its battered form has lost much of 
its pristine lustre, so that the fortunate classes now possessing it can 
no longer kiss its godly toe, as only the head and torso remain, its 

61 



legs and arms having become dismembered in its many flights. How- 
ever, it still continues to make its meteoric appearances, from time 
to time making its way across Whitnall Field ; sometimes in a slow- 
moving dump wagon, sometimes in a 90 h. p. Stutz, but always 
eluding the traps set for it by the would-be capturers. Every 
known mode of transportation has been utilized in transferring the 
"bird" from place to place by the various classes and perhaps we 
may soon see it in an aeroplane." 



62 

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